God Loves Fags

A Kansas congregation deems
That God Hates Fags, and so therefore,
A land that harbors them blasphemes
And thus deserves to field in war
Gay troops who didn’t ask or tell,
And who if killed went straight to hell.

Such logic, if one calls such crock,
Had rightly reached our Highest Court.
Once members of this Baptist flock
Of one Marine’s last rites made sport.
Thank God for Dead Soldiers, more signs said.
Would God, dead were these beasts instead.

It’s bullying. As usual,
Sheer cowardice disguised as strength.
Those grieving at a funeral
Of course would go to any length
To dodge what maybe fiends conflate:
Abhorrence and their own self-hate.

For sure their pastor isn‘t gay.
(The “Reverend” Phelps has thirteen kids.)
Nor Corporal Snyder, put away
Before the Court this week forbids
Infringement even on a lie,
Free speech for which these warriors die.

True justice, though, won’t run its course
Until Topeka’s gays entrap
The Phelpses with or without force
And drag them to the Tool Shed Tap,
Best-known on gays’ excursion map.
Too bad, out back’s no woodshed strap.